We are made for more.
First kiss.
It's like a drum beat.
Graduation.
A steady heart beat.
First car.
I am made for more than this. More than this. More.
First job.
It's a promise.
Marriage.
But of what?
Honeymoon.
It begins as a promise. Only later does it become an illusion. Fear of loss is the second, not the first reaction.
Kids.
No, at first it's just a promise and we are full of expectation. We expect something. We expect something that we can't even define. Something beyond what we can define. But we try.
Vacation.
We wait to see how the promise of more will be fulfilled.
Grand kids.
It's as if all of life hinges on that more.
Retirement.
When we are young, everything is new. More is always waiting. As children we scale walls. We turn corners and pages with excitement. There is something waiting.
And then, as if slowly taken by one last drawn out surprise, we realize, in what is more like one long moment, that nothing is really new anymore. There is nothing more. Nothing is waiting.
It's the same job. The same wife. The same vacation. The same food. Well, not the same, but definitely not new. I have done this before. Maybe not this way, but yes, I have definitely done this before. Our experience didn't and doesn't match our expectations. And they settle. They lower.
And even what we haven't done is already judged. It won't be what I am looking for, it won't be enough either.
Nothing is new.
Everything is in, and then out.
In and out.
And the exit wound only grows.
Maybe it was Disneyland. Everything seemed possible.
The dream confused with the ideal.
And life became a wish. I wish it could be this way. If life was like this it would be better. If life were only like this song or that movie. But it isn't. Life isn't like Disneyland. But it should be.
Shouldn't it?
Confusion sets in. The dream becomes the ideal. And yet no dream is ever enough.
Because maybe a wish does come true, but they never come true exactly like we expected or with the exact consequences we imagined. But most dreams don't come true, and so we live in a life that we don't want without the expectation that it will ever really get better. And expectation dies when there is no more possibility of being surprised. There are no more surprises. There is no more waiting.
Because it is here that more has finally been reduced to our measure.
Even the measure of our dreams can't measure up to the desire of our soul.
Even our dreams aren't enough. And when they fall, so do we.
We stop waiting. We think we know all there is to know.
Life becomes the already known.
The unknown is lost.
The mystery.
Lost.
And so we begin to consume even more. As if consuming more, would fill us more. Would give us direction.
We break taboos. Perhaps, they were wrong. Perhaps, the more is what has been forbidden.
The first affair.
And we consume in hopes of drowning out the despair that even the taboos do not offer us with more.
The divorce.
Where are we supposed to look?
The antidepressants.
It must be me. Right? Something is wrong with me. When I was younger, I was so much happier. Something was always waiting around the next corner. There was always something more. Oh to be young again. To be free. Everything is in front of you.
The overdose.
But where? Where is front?
Death.
